|Two men with their borro in tow on the beach.|
We left Mexico City in a hurry last week, on an 18 hour bus ride to Puerto Escondido. Cramped, uncomfortable, trying to sleep as the bus swerved down curves on the Mexican highways, arriving at check stops every couple of hours, men holding fully-loaded machine guns, searching for criminals, searching for anyone who doesn't quite belong. Like ourselves. The busses are given the go ahead, so we don't need to stop, but my nerves are so wound up no sleep comes easy.
|Juan and Omar, our fish guides, with a bonita fish.|
I've learned that traveling quickly becomes a part of who you are; aching for the next destination, embracing whatever it is that the locals do, whether it be surf at this beach or that, eat this food or that. If you just take a step further, out from the hostel or the hotel or the resort that you feel so safe in, you wouldn't regret it. I'm becoming immersed in Mexico, and want to further myself as a traveller here, not as a tourist.
In all honestly, it is the people that make it so. Not the beaches, not the cheap jewelry. The people.
|Playa Zicatela (Zicatela Beach) at sunset.|